


Moon Boots and Ten Gallon Hats

by Red_Tigress



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Tigress/pseuds/Red_Tigress
Summary: McCree takes Lucio on a mission to show him a few things. Neither of them are expecting the past to show up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Meskeet and I challenged each other to some character development fics. Which is hard in this fandom since everything's so ambiguous. But it also made it really fun! So these are my interpretations. This takes place after the establishment of new Overwatch, pretty much right away. 
> 
> If you're reading this on any other site except Ao3, know that it's published without my permission and this is intended to be a free fan work. 
> 
> Stay on the payload, everybody.

It was surreal, being back in these hallways. Once full of life, then abandoned, they were just beginning to get back some of their old feel into them. These walls were painted with history, and now a new chapter was beginning to be written again.

Jesse McCree wasn’t totally sure why he had agreed to come back. Even before, the Deadlock gang and then Blackwatch wasn’t anything like what he was asked to do now. 

The operation was still small enough in its new phase that they weren’t being bogged down in red tape. It both excited and unnerved him. Winston and his A.I. were good at knowing threats, there were just some things out there you couldn’t know until you stumbled upon them in person. 

He turned the corner and came into a wide open space. Winston was sitting on a giant tire, eyes roaming six or seven screens with various amounts of interest. Even though McCree had known Winston for years, it just wasn’t really something you got used to. 

Farther behind him, Fareeha was playing basketball with one of the new kids, Lucio. It was nice to see her relaxed and out of her armor. McCree also liked Lucio. He worked hard, and was always in a good mood. 

McCree stalked over to the edge of Winston’s desk and leaned on it. He took a cigar out of his pocket and brought it to his lips.

“Not in here, you’re not,” Winston growled without looking away from his screens. 

McCree chuckled, biting down on the end. “Relax, Four Eyes, I ain’t gonna smoke in your sanctum. I’ve seen enough of your temper tantrums to know better.”

Winston hummed noncommittally. “I do not have...temper...tantrums.” He mumbled.

McCree raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Winston would get to whatever he wanted to say in his own time. Until then, McCree was content to wait. 

As he did, a light laugh pulled his eyes back to the basketball game. Fareeha was playing keep away with the ball from the much shorter Lucio. The Brazilian’s dreadlocks bounced up and down as he leapt to try and tip it out of her hands. Fareeha’s eyes sparkled with amusement that reminded him too much of Ana. 

Ana. Fareeha would have made her so proud. Maybe McCree would even get around to telling that to her. 

Fareeha had started dribbling the ball again, but in a show of speed, Lucio dodged in and swiped it from her hands. She chased him, but even without his blades he was much faster. It was a good matchup. 

“You and I may be thinking something similar,” Winston rumbled. 

McCree turned. “Huh?”

The gorilla folded his arms over his chest and nodded his head towards the basketball game. “The new one. He’s fast. Could use some more training though.”

McCree growled in the affirmative, shifting his cigar around in his teeth. 

Winston’s lip rose upward in his gorilla version of a smile, showing off one of his massive canines. “So I thought you could show him some things.”

McCree blinked. “Woah there, I don’t train anyone. Sides, I’m more of a covert guy anyway.”

“Not in that getup, you’re not.”

McCree froze for a moment.

“Well, you have me there,” he said, relaxing back into the computer array. 

Winston chuckled, leaning forward and landing on his fists as he moved off the enormous tire that served as his chair. “Lucio! We’re ready for you!” 

Lucio clasped hands with Fareeha and they embraced briefly. “Next week?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Fareeha smiled, basketball tucked under her arm. “I’ll be there.” She gave a light grin. 

Lucio laughed and mimed shooting her with his fingers as he jogged over to McCree and Winston. 

Winston cleared his throat. “Lucio, I trust you’ve met Jesse McCree.”

In answer, Lucio crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow again. “Only multiple times, Chief.”

“Oh, well, ah, right. Of course.” Winston hurriedly took his glasses off and breathed on them. A loud squeak sounded as he rubbed the lenses with his glove tip.

Lucio smiled gently and slapped the gorilla’s shoulder. “No worries big guy. It is the first time we’re teaming up. Right?” He winked.

“Yes, that’s right,” Winston answered as he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. Winston moved back over to the computer desk. “Please direct your attention here,” he said indicating the main monitor. 

Lucio gave a quick wink to McCree, who couldn’t help smiling at the musician’s innate ability to read people (and gorillas) and put them back into their comfort zone. 

He hoped it wouldn’t be wasted on the battlefield. 

“Talon has recovered a large shipment of omnic parts and weapons. Not too many, but enough for concern.” A few buildings near a dock appeared on the screen. The time stamp indicated it was recorded video. McCree squinted as he saw about four men using pallet jacks to push crates from a truck into a warehouse. “You two will go into the warehouse a few hours before the pickup is scheduled and shut it down. Get the parts, get them back into your own truck, and get out.” Winston turned to face them. “Jesse, you were picked for this mission because it does require discretion. Lucio, as one of our most mobile members, you provide an asset that’s critical to the mission's success.”

“Just us?” Lucio asked. There was concern in his voice, but he hid it well.

Winston looked apologetic. “Unfortunately, we’re spread very thin. Pharah’s scheduled to ship out tonight, and most everyone else is already gone. There is an evac assigned to you in case of an emergency, but…” Winston turned back to the screen. The video zoomed out into a map of Vancouver, then the North Pacific area of North America. A green dot was on Vancouver, with two more in Colorado and California. A yellow dot was centered on San Fransisco. “The medical team is covering all three missions, and would take some time in getting to you if there were an emergency.”

“Don’t get shot, got it,” growled McCree. “Anything else?”

Winston’s brow furrowed. “The medical properties of Lucio’s weapon is enough to slow down any physical damage from being immediately fatal. It’s sonar qualities speed up cell regeneration enough that should you have any problems you’ll be alright, but still-”

“Don’t get shot.” McCree tipped his hat towards Lucio, who had spoken.

“...right,” Winston said. He looked torn between the fact the two were getting along so well already, and that they were so indifferent about getting shot. 

“You’ll ship out first thing tomorrow. I’ve sent a dossier to your personal terminals with all the more intricate details. Good luck.” 

Lucio nodded and waved at McCree. “See you tomorrow!” McCree turned to follow.

“Jesse,” he felt Winston’s massive hand on his shoulder, albeit gently. “There’s something you should know.”

McCree turned, a feeling of unease settling in his stomach at Winston’s tone. “Talon’s getting a little desperate, even on these short missions. There’ve been sightings of key operatives at a few.”

“Anyone I know?” McCree drawled.

Winston shook his head. “Not yet. But just...keep your guard up.”

“Why didn’t you tell the kid?”

Winston scrunched up his nose. “He’s not a kid.”

“To me he is. You an’ I been doing this longer than he’s been ska  
tin’ around on his...air hockey boots.”

Winston chuckled, but his face turned serious again quickly. He lumbered slowly back to his tire and suddenly McCree could see it. Winston’s emotions were so palpable, despite him being a different species.

“You’re afraid you made a mistake,” McCree said quietly.

Winston snorted, showing his teeth briefly. “Lucio’s quite capable and incredible in the field.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” McCree pressed. 

Winston turned his back to him, shoulders sagging. “Yes.”

McCree sighed. “You not being honest and getting close with the new folks...that’s not gonna make it hurt less anymore this go ‘round.”

Winston snorted again, but it was a defeated sound. 

“You’re not thinking of them as what they could be.”

Winston slowly turned around, a shocked expression on his face. “What?”

“You’re not helpin’ anyone thinkin’ of us all as a liability. Least of all yourself. Gotta think of them as what they could be, you know?”

Winston gave him a small smile. “Anyone ever tell you how eloquent and right you are?”

“Not nearly enough. But if you’re offerin’ to start a fan club, I’ll make sure to get a shirt big enough for you.” McCree tipped his hat and turned to go as Winston gave a small wave.

“Be safe,” he heard the gorilla rumble. 

 

“And people think I look conspicuous,” mumbled McCree, staring at the giant green glowing blades poking out from under the massive leg armor Lucio was wearing. They were about two blocks away from the warehouse, sticking to the shadows as the sun set over the dock area.

“What are you talking about? We passed like, five other people on the way here wearing sets of these. Only difference between them and me is mine can climb walls.” Lucio raised an eyebrow (McCree was wondering if that was his only facial expression). “Know what we didn’t see? Anyone else dressed up as a cowboy in Canada!”

“You sure you’re Brazilian? Your hatred for Canada seems pretty American to me.” McCree peaked around the corner of the wall that he and Lucio were backed up against. “Clear, by the way.”

Lucio skated over to the next building as McCree followed at a light jog. To his credit, Lucio waited before they were both behind cover again to quip “Are you sure you’re American? No American I know dresses like that.” Ah yes, he’d fit right in here.

McCree grinned. “People just think I’m a Canadian cosplayer pretending to be American.”

“What is a cosplayer?” Lucio asked.

“You should know, you dress up as a giant frog.”

“That’s my act, man. I got headphones in the...know what? Never mind. I’m not dressed as a frog now, am I? And you’re still dressed up as a cowboy.”

They both moved around the corner of the building, the edge of the warehouse in sight. Lucio moved his hand to his visor, starting the Heads Up Display. McCree could see some faint red outlines on it.”What’s the Hud say, Frogman?”

Lucio shot him a look before his eyes focused back on his visor. “It can count five, all hanging around what I assume is the shipment, but the range on this thing’s a little limited.” He looked back at McCree, seriousness back on his face. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I can tell you right now they’re going to have all the exits covered. They may be off-guard but they’re not stupid.” His he rubbed his metal hand against his chin, the hair and stubble making a loud scratching noise that had become somewhat cathartic to him. “To get the stuff outta there, we’re going to have to use one of their trucks. We’re not gonna have time to get ours.”

McCree was glad neither of them had to say “Unless we kill them all.” It was something McCree may have done in his past, but he didn’t do that anymore. Even with Talon. Even though they wouldn’t think twice about killing him. 

“How fast can you go on those things?” He indicated the boots.

“Fast enough, Cowboy.”

“Fast enough to get them all chasing you and not get shot?”

Five minutes later the plan was in motion. 

While McCree didn’t have much patience for quiet entrances anymore, he did for this. He shimmied up a pipe attached to the outside wall. His metal hand clinked lightly against it, but he didn’t think anyone would hear. Lucio waited on the ground until he got to the window ledge. McCree pulled himself up and pushed the glass pane inwards. There was a floor underneath him, so he gave Lucio an awkward one-handed thumbs up as his boots scrambled for purchase on the side. Lucio looked doubtful, but skated off anyway.

McCree pulled himself the rest of the way inside, landing with only a soft thump. He stilled, listening for signs that indicated Talon was aware of his presence. There was none, so he lifted his head slowly up over the railing. 

The Talon members were sitting on and around the crates about twenty five feet below him and off to his left. They were closer to the loading door, which was open partially so they could see if people walked by. Besides the five Lucio had counted earlier, there seemed to be one by a regular-sized door next to the loading doors, and two more closer to McCree’s position. 

Perfectly by the book. 

Just then, Lucio’s bright green space boots (McCree had no idea what he called them) skated into view under the door.

“Hey! You the guys that hired a DJ?” he yelled, kicking the door.

The rattle of guns was unmistakeable and they opened fire in seconds but Lucio was already gone. They surged towards the loading door, someone pushing it the rest of the way open as the other six scrambled outside. 

McCree grinned, looking down at the two by the back door. One began moving closer to the crates, and McCree could hear a faint crackle of a radio. He was gonna have to do this quick then. 

He stood slowly and reached into his belt, pulling out a grenade. In his other hand he pulled out Peacekeeper, the blue light glowing comfortably and reflecting off his arm. 

He wasn’t looking forward to this jump.

He tossed the Flashbangs and leapt a second after. The men grunted in surprise and pain, before the first one screamed as McCree landed on him. McCree grunted as he rolled off, his knee spasming before seemingly to correct itself as he ran towards the second man. The man was still blind, but bringing his gun up towards the sound he knew was an intruder.

McCree was faster as he leapt forward and threw a punch into the man’s jaw. 

Both men were out cold.

McCree pulled himself to his feet, giving his knee and experimental rotation. It was smarting slightly, but nothing an ice pack wouldn’t fix. He walked limped quickly towards the crates, grabbing a pallet jack on the way. He got it under the first pallet and pushed it outside as fast as he could, searching for a truck. Luckily, it seemed Talon had left theirs there, unlocked and with the ramp still down.

“Heh, lucky for me freight truck driving isn’t in the rule book,” he mused. He pushed the pallet up the ramp, securing the first crate.

Moving quickly, he pulled the jack behind him back into the warehouse, maneuvering it in position to get the second crate. 

A soft flapping noise was his only warning.

He dropped the grip of the jack and rolled. A shotgun blast went off where his head had been a second earlier. He whirled, firing his own gun, but the bullets passed harmlessly through a purple vapor. 

McCree’s stomach dropped in anger and despair. He had known to expect something, but not...not this. He ducked behind a crate, and dashed towards other bays so that they could provide some cover. He dove towards the floor just as another shotgun blast fired, and scrambled behind cover. He squatted and took two deep breaths, trying to remain calm. Then time was up. 

He dove on the floor, gun in front of him and the rest of his body still behind cover. In the space in front of him, there was...nothing.

He grimaced, starting to turn, when he felt something sharp and cold wrap around his neck and lift him up. He grunted as he was slammed down on his back on top of the crates he had been using for cover. The clawed hand wrapped tighter around his throat and he coughed into the bone-white mask that was leering in front of his face.

“Hey, McCree,” a raspy voice echoed from inside of it. 

He swung his gun in front of him, but another hand grabbed his wrist and slammed it against the crate as well, loosening his grip. 

McCree gasped for breath. 

“I have to admit, when I came back, I was disappointed not to see your face with us.”

“Don’t...do that...no more…” McCree grinned, even as the hand squeezed tighter. 

A low hum came from inside the mask. It reminded McCree of a crocodile regarding its prey before it snapped. “And how’s the shiny new Overwatch treating you?”

McCree tried to speak, but the hand was still tight around his throat. He choked instead. To his surprise, the hand let up slightly. So, maybe he was actually interested in what McCree had to say. 

“Peachy,” he grinned. “Lots of people...you didn’t...manage to kill...the first time.”

McCree felt and heard the crack as the skull mask smashed forward right into his nose. Heat and pain washed over his face and he moaned, immediately tasting the blood as it flowed into the back of his throat. He coughed, choking from both lack of air and too much blood, splattering the white mask a dark red. 

“You always did talk too much.” The Reaper pulled McCree up and threw him on the ground where he stumbled. More blood dripped from his ruined nose onto the concrete. 

“Last chance of a job offer. Lots of your old friends here. People you’ve trained. Others that can benefit from your skills. True. Justice.”

“Thanks, but,” McCree gasped. His eyes darted to Peacekeeper just a few feet away. “My current job...matches my 401K.”

He dove for his gun. His fingers wrapped around the grip and he brought it up, firing, as another shotgun blast rang out. Pain tore through him again, this time in his side. But he’d also heard a grunt from The Reaper. He didn’t wait, but pushed himself off the floor and scrambled to a small van parked inside the warehouse. He clutched at his side, fingers coming away bloody when he looked at them. Of course, that could have been from his face, but the throbbing pain crawling up his rib cage told him probably not.

“YOU ALWAYS WERE A GODDAMN IDIOT, MCCREE,” Reaper shouted. His voice seemed to echo around the space. “You can’t trust them! I may look like a monster, but who are the monsters really?”

McCree grimaced, holding his side. 

“Do you know what your doctors do? Who your security contractors work for? How your pet monkey gained sentience?”

“Easy,” McCree mumbled. “He’s from a colony...of space apes...on the moon.”

“Don’t be naive,” Reaper growled. “Not to me.”

“Fuck off,” McCree tried to yell, but it came out as more of a strangled garble. He was getting really light-headed. Darkness was clouding his vision before he realized it wasn’t his vision. It was Reaper, wisps of smoke surrounded his feet until they coalesced into a being standing over him. The mask was still bloody. 

Death personified. A true Reaper.

“What, no banter now? No jokes?” he growled.

“I only see one joke here and it’s you.”

Faster than his eyes could track Reaper turned, but Lucio’s gun had already blasted him twenty feet into the air, smoke and all. 

Lucio huffed. “Pushoff.”

McCree took in a shuddering breath. “He’ll be back...glad to see you.”

“I’d say the same, but you look like shit,” Lucio said. He leaned down and pulled McCree’s arm around his shoulders, helping the other man up. “Who’s your friend?”

McCree spat out a wad of blood. “Old history.”

“Fair enough.”

“Others?”

Lucio grinned. “Pushed ‘em right into the ocean.” Lucio seemed to float forward, dragging McCree along. McCree didn’t know if it was his moon skates or blood loss. His face felt like a giant boil, and his side had started to go numb.

McCree grunted, trying to turn around but just sort of sagging instead. “Guns,” he gasped. “Omnics…”

Lucio nearly dropped him from the unexpected movement. “Yo man, we can’t worry about that right now!”

“No, you can’t.” Lucio did drop him that time, firing his gun again at the smoke trailing behind them. It dispersed again, and Lucio dragged McCree upwards again.

“‘Mai dreamin’ or do I feel...better?” he mumbled. 

He didn’t miss the look of fear on Lucio’s face as he spoke. “You may feel something start to heal but it’s not enough, not right now.”

They reached the loading door, the ramp still down to the truck. Not waiting for preamble, Lucio blasted the ramp away and skated over to the cab. McCree tried to lift his his arms up to pull himself in, but they didn’t get more than a few inches. 

“Wait here,” Lucio instructed, leaning him up against the side of the cab. He skated around the front and out of sight. 

“Stay on th’ payload,” McCree mumbled. A moment later he felt himself pulled up into the cab roughly. His side lost its numbness at the jostling, and he choked off a scream.

“I know man, I know, I’m sorry,” Lucio whispered frantically. The engine started a moment later. “Dude, where’s your gun?”

“Ah…” McCree patted his pants, feeling the heavy outline of the revolver in his pocket instead of his holster. Whoops. “‘Ere,” he said, holding it up.

The truck was moving. “Cover us, okay? Okay, McCree? Gonna need you to cover us from Ghost Guy. Can you do that?” 

McCree nodded, using the door handle to pull himself into a sitting position. Lucio was driving with one hand, other hand on his gun and pointed out the window. “Man, why is this dude so angry?”

“All them Blackwatch guys...angry bastards...nothin’...nothin’ to lose.” It’s what makes us dangerous, Reyes always used to say.

There was a burst of wind and Lucio fired out the door. He missed though, and clawed hands reached into the window and grabbed his chin and the steering wheel. Reaper forced Lucio’s head back. “Not even soldiers? Who’s got questionable morality now?” the wraith growled.

McCree growled back and fired his gun. Reaper disappeared as Lucio fell forward, coughing. McCree leaned over and took his gun from him, fumbling with the grip. “Keep drivin...call...call Winston…” McCree heard Lucio activate his radio and leaned onto the window frame. He aimed both guns out the window at the black mass trailing the truck. 

He didn’t think Reaper was really after the guns. 

“We’re takin’ the highway, hold on!” Lucio swerved and McCree gasped as his torso slammed into the door. He managed to hold onto his guns, however. The truck slowed enough making the turn that Reaper was able to dig his claws into it, holding on. 

McCree hesitated.

The truck sped up, whipping McCree’s hat off his head.

“We’re not done, you and I,” Reaper said loud enough to be heard over the wind.

Then he let go.

He was gone just as quickly and silently as he’d arrived. 

McCree fell back into the truck, a sigh of relief on his lips that quickly turned to pain as the immediate danger was past.

Time blurred, and sometime later he noticed the truck had stopped. Lucio was kneeling over him with a few agents and…

“What do you...do...Doctor?” McCree grinned up at Mercy, who frowned before making eye contact with Lucio. 

“He’s delirious, get him on the plane. I can’t treat him in the street.” Hands moved under him, and he faded out again. 

When he woke up again, he was in a hospital bed. He lifted his hands up. Or tried to. They still only moved a few inches. But both of them, including his metal one were still there. Didn’t lose another one then. He chuckled.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

Angela was sitting next to his bed. Her uniform replaced by a cotton sweater and jeans. She still looked angelic, though. Albeit grumpy.

“Lucio?” he ground out. His throat was raw, raspy. 

Angela sighed heavily. “Fine. Minor bumps and scratches. Mostly worried about you, but no doubt he’ll be back in the field in the next few days. He performed admirably.”

“Didn’t..teach him anything.”

She leveled him with a flat stare. “Good. Otherwise he’d come out of it looking like you.” She paused, regarding him. “He said…”

McCree turned his face back towards the ceiling. The bandages on his nose felt more pronounced now that was was starting to wake up. “Yeah. Reyes was there.”

Angela leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and covering her mouth with one hand. It was a moment before she spoke. “After Winston said he was attacked...I don’t know what his agenda could be.”

“Recruitment. He tried to…” he breathed in heavily. “Clearly they’re getting stronger. Need more players. Or killing threats.”

Angela sat up straight again. “I see. Well.” She turned to look at him. “We can discuss things in due course. But for now, someone very much would like to see you.”

She stood up, opening the door to the room. Lucio was standing there (wearing normal shoes, thank heaven). “Hey man,” he said softly but still with a huge grin on his face. 

Angela smiled. “I’ll leave you two be.” She left.

Lucio had a large gift bag with him and sat down in her vacated chair. “Brought you somethin’. Since, cause you lost your hat, and I figured it was my fault from driving too fast.”

McCree gave a weak chuckle.

Lucio reached into the bag, pulling out a huge ten gallon hat, with a very gaudy frog pin on the front. “Figured you could use it for your cosplay.”

McCree barked out a scratchy laugh, taking the hat. “Oh God, I hate it so much,” he chuckled.

Lucio was laughing so hard, he wiped a tear from his eye. Then he shrugged. “Ya know, I figured, it was such an ugly target, all the baddies would aim for that and just hit your hat and not you.” He laughed.

McCree closed his eyes, smiling. “You’re a thinker, my friend. I’ll treasure it.” His eyes started to drift closed, the hat still resting on his stomach. “Thanks,” he smiled.

“Anytime. We cool to go out again together sometime?”

“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please consider leaving a review if you liked this. It may encourage to me to keep writing in this fandom. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr at redtigress dot tumblr.


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